Games of Hunger
by cornsauce
Summary: In District 12, Peeta lives miserably with an abusive mother, a sick father, and a law saying he can't be who he is. District 2: Cato's mother is murdered right in front of him. Therefore dedicating his life for revenge. That is until he meets Peeta. In working progress: Peeta/Cato pairing.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes: My first ever fanfiction. I hope you guys like it. I'm going to have a lot of back story because I really want to build the characters' personalities. **

**This is a Slash Peeta/Cato fanfic and _will_ include a M/M relationship. If you don't like it, or if you feel offended, then please go away. **

**Rated M for later more sexual chapters.  
**

**Enjoy! :)  
**

**(Cato probably won't show up until Ch. 3)  
**

* * *

**Prologue:  
**

**Chapter 1: The Cake  
**

It started with bread.

"You got the last of our bread, sir," Peeta informed the customer. "This will cost ten tokens."

"Wow, isn't that a bit much? Will five tokens work?" the buyer asked in an attempt to negotiate.

"Sorry, sir, but we have to make a living off of this."

"C'mon, kid, it's my daughter's birthday tomorrow, she's turning twelve. Can you let this slide just once?" He seemed worried.

"I really can't. Sorry." the blonde boy replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

"How's six tokens?"

The baker boy sighed for a second. "How about eight tokens and I'll just let it go… for your daughter of course."

"Thank you so much!" he responded with gratitude.

The buyer handed him eight metal coins and walked out of the bakery with the medium sized bread in hand and a smile on his face. "Another satisfied customer," the boy thought out loud as he wiped a smudge off of the bakery counter with his dirty-white rag and threw it over his right shoulder.

"Peeta!" his mother yelled. "What was that?" she furiously asked as she finished eavesdropping on her son.

Blankness and confusion was strapped on the boy's face.

"I _saw_ you give that man a discount that never existed!" she accused.

"It was his daughter's birthday. Cut him some slack! The girl's turning twelve, and it might be the last piece of bread she'll ever get from district twelve."

Then comes the wooden spoon taken from its respective place just to the right of the of the cash register as she pointed it at her son's face. "That girl's chances of getting reaped is slim, you fool!" The wooden spoon came in contact with his left cheek bone with a _thwaak._

The recoil damage caused the blonde boy's vision to blur due to the pain it caused. He never really got used to the hits his mother gave him. He never really got used to the vision blur either. As soon as his sight reverted back to normal, he glared at the woman who just dealt a blow to his face as he made an effort to hold back tears.

After she smacked Peeta with the spoon, her voice calmed down a bit to a point where she almost whispered her commands. "Now go out there and apply for tesserae. We're out of the supplies needed to bake bread." She later put the spoon back to the right of the cash register and walked back to the kitchen with her chin down.

He held his glare until his will power left him and opted to walk away heading upstairs to his sick father. His dad seems to be the only one that…_cared_ for him_._ What was he supposed to do but reciprocate, right?

The boy saw his father sick in bed with thick blankets covering him, his face was pale as snow, his mouth was dry, his throat filled with bile, and he was coughing to relieve the pain in his voice box. "Peeta," he saw his son underneath the door frame. "come in."

"Hey, Dad, how're you holding up?" he asked.

"Oh, never better!" sarcasm was in his raspy, ancient voice.

The blonde teen placed the back of his hand on his father's forehead. "Your temperature seems so much higher than yesterday."

A sigh came out of the sick father. "Hey listen," the atmosphere became serious, "if I don't get better… if I don't make it-"

"Dad," the baker's son interrupted.

"No, listen, you have been the most hardworking, responsible, reliable… the point is, I want you to have the bakery."

A shock was slapped on the teen's face. "But I'm only turning seventeen, Dad, you can't guarantee that I won't be reaped."

"That doesn't change anything." he coughed again with the sound of phlegm escaping.

Silence became loud in the room. Regardless of his father's sickness, Peeta hugged him sincerely. It was probably one of those father-son moments that are golden to the memories of the boy's '_old man.' _A simple 'thank you' was all that came out of Peeta's lips.

His father gave him an approving nod.

"Anyway," the baker's son tried to change the subject, "mother wants me to apply for tesserae. Apparently, we're out of raw baking needs, and the money we receive is being saved for your medicine."

His father noticed the red mark on Peeta's face. "Did your mother-?"

"Yup." The baker's son held his hand up to the numbing, red mark as if to cover it.

"Listen, don't be too upset. She's only acting that way ever since… I became sick. I really don't have any energy at all to work at the bakery or spend time with her… or my sons," regret filled his voice.

"Don't even defend her, Dad," anger and yelling took over Peeta. "We all know why she's been acting like that, and believe me it has nothing to do with your sickness!" with that, he got up, but a hand stopped him.

"If you sign up for anymore of those, you'll get a higher chance of you being reaped. There's no way I'm letting you do that, you hear me? I mean, can't you split it with your brother?"

"He's turning nineteen before the Games, Dad. He's not legible anymore. Plus, the money we spend for your medicine is the only thing keeping you alive. I-" He paused and broke their eye contact, "I can't let you die." With that being said, he walked to the exit with his eyes attached to the wooden floors as if they suddenly became so interesting. He paused at the door way, and the baker's son turned his chin to his right shoulder, "If you need me, I'm signing up for tesserae."

Peeta left the room cold and silent. His father, with a look of disbelief, can only whisper in response: "But I can't let you die, either."

In District 12, the train station is the only way to contact the capitol, therefore it's the only place where teens can sign up for and receive tesserae. As he walked the shortcut route, he kept his eyes to the ground, guilt took over.

"I shouldn't have yelled at him like that," he thought out loud. He sighed almost wishing he can take back the words he shot his father with. He should've known better than to yell at a sick man, _his_ old man.

His eyes wandered out of the district's borders across the electric fence. He eyed Katniss and Gale with bows and arrows slung on their backs ready to hunt for some game. Going out of the district zones are illegal, but Peeta kept his mouth shut… for Katniss' sake… and maybe Gale's as well.

Don't get him wrong, Peeta tried to love Katniss just like his father wanted him to, but his heart isn't really attracted to her. Scratch that. Peeta wasn't really attract to… _girls _in general.

He kept his eyes on Gale to admire his very attractive features. His hair, his muscles, his face, his arms. Honestly, the blonde boy was jealous of Katniss the way she could just spend time with the boy from the seam…_ alone… in the woods_… I think you catch my drift. Peeta could only fantasize the possibilities that could happen if _he_ can spend time with the tall brunette.

"Excuse me!" an innocent voice from a little girl caught the young baker off guard.

"Er. Huh?"

"Can you please pass the ball?" she requested pointing at the round object leaning on Peeta's leg. He didn't even notice it there being too distracted by the two teenagers heading toward the forest.

"Um. Sure. Yeah." he replied with his mind back on track. Then he granted the little girl's wishes by gently kicking the ball to her.

"Yay! Thanks!" she began dribbling the ball with her feet as she ran to her group of friends to play some soccer… District 12 style. Soon, there was a cheer of out burst due to a scored goal.

That's when a teenaged girl with jet-black hair and small, dark-brown eyes began walking towards the blonde boy. "Peeta!" she bellowed, "Long time, no see, Cheesecake! How've you been?"

"Summer! Hi!" the young baker smiled from ear to ear at the sight of his best friend approaching him. "What's up?"

"Looks like you've met my little sister. The girl with the ball?"

"That's your sister?"

"Yup." Then she turned to the little girl playing soccer, "Hey, June!" she bellowed again, "I'll be back. Just stay with your friends okay! Stay safe!"

The little girl was too distracted with the soccer game, so she just waved at her older sibling implying an 'okay!'.

Summer followed Peeta to the train station. "So," she began the conversation as they paced through the dirt path, "what have you been up to? We _need _to catch up on each other's lives, Cheesecake."

They began with basic questions regarding school and the bakery. Of course, without a doubt, the topic of the Hunger Games were avoided. Peeta, or according to Summer, 'Cheesecake' told her about the man who bought some bread for his daughter who's turning twelve and the 'discount' he gave him due to pity.

Soon enough, personal and private questions were unfolding themselves in their mini reunion.

"So, do you like anyone?" Summer began.

Peeta's entire face turned red as cherries after the question. He kept to himself at first and debated whether or not to tell the already grinning girl.

"Oooooooooo!" she exclaimed with enthusiasm as she started to jump up and down ready to hear about her best friend's love life. "So who's the boy?"

The blonde teen became wide eyed. "Shhhhhhh!" Peeta shut her up by putting his left hand behind her head and the other hand covering her mouth like a muzzle. His lips still made that 'sshhhh' shape. Then, he looked around to see if anyone heard her. "Summer!" he said in a harsh whisper, "You know what people do to people like me in this district. You have to be more quiet about this!"

"Who really cares?" she asked defensively, "being who you are shouldn't be illegal anymore!"

"Yeah? Well _it is,_ and we can't do anything about it."

"It's just unfair though!"

"Yeah. It really sucks. Well, at least for me anyway."

There was a long pause.

"So... who is he?" she asked again in a more quiet tone while poking his sides mockingly.

Peeta just decided to tell her anyway. After all, what's the harm? She _is_ his only friend. Best friend, in fact. "It's Gale." he admitted still blushing.

"Awww!" her voice progressively became higher.

"I'm so stupid though."

"And why is that?"

"Because every time, every damn time, my boy-crush heart just gets attracted to a straight guy."

"But you don't know if he's straight or-."

"He's straight." he cut her off.

"How do you know that?"

The blonde boy told Summer about what he saw before his encounter with her little sister June. The way Gale and Katniss just spend every second of their time together in the forest really gives people the wrong idea, you know?

Quickly, Summer locked Peeta's arm with hers as she relaxed her head on his left shoulder. "Don't worry, Cheesecake, you'll always have me." she reassured him. "You know what? I'll even set you up with a hotter boy than Gale. Don't you worry."

"Haha," he laughed, "Thanks, Summer. And can you not call me 'Cheesecake' anymore? I mean, aren't we a little too old for nicknames?"

"No! I'm only turning 16 and you're only turning 17! Besides, no one is _ever_ too old for a nickname… _Cheesecake_," a smirk appeared on her face as she said his nickname in the most mocking tone possible.

"Whatever," Peeta rolled his eyes. "How'd you come up with that name anyway?"

Summer leaned away from him as she unlocked their arms and hovered both her hands over her lips. She stared at him wide-eyed and gasped overdramatically, "How could you forget?" she asked. "I've been calling you that since you've helped me master the art of cake decorating!" there was a slight shock, drama, and disappointment in her tone of voice.

She soon commenced explaining the long story of their childhood as they walked towards the train station. How they met, how they became friends, how she came up with the name Cheesecake. _Everything_.

'Ugh. If only I didn't ask.' Peeta thought to himself.

x x

Their friendship began with bread about eight years before.

It was a day before Christmas, and Summer and her mom visited 'Mellark Bakery' to get some bread for the special occasion. The sky was gray, the entire district was covered in snow, but the mood was merry as can be.

_Ding. Kring. Ting. Ting._ The door opened activating the wind chimes attached to it. Warmth of the bakery was overwhelming in contrast to the bitter cold outside. Summer and her mom entered the bakery.

"Mrs. Mellark," Summer's mom greeted, "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon, you two," she greeted back to both of the ladies, "How may I help you?"

"Can we get two rolls of bread, please?" she ordered. It was more of a question though.

"Sure thing!" Peeta's mom answered with a vibrant smile on her almost enough to melt the snow outside. She walked into the kitchen and started making some dough with the flour, yeast, and other things. As the baker's wife kneaded the dough, she turned to young Peeta who was watching her put materials together. "Peeta, can you go to the customer and tell them that their bread will be ready in roughly thirty minutes?"

"Okay." he said, following his mother's orders obediently.

"Oh and while you're at it, can you decorate the cake just behind the counter?" she added.

"No problem." he shrugged, walked out of the kitchen, and informed the lady and her daughter how much time is left before the bread is ready. He then took a decorating tool and started adding intricate designs on a two tiered cake, probably made for the mayor.

"Mommy! Mommy!" Summer got her mother's attention by pulling on her left leg with her tiny hands. "What's that boy doing?" she pointed towards young Peeta in curiosity.

"I'm decorating a cake," Peeta answered. "You wanna take a closer look?" he offered innocently.

Summer nodded, but looked to her mom for approval. Her mom smiled and nodded as well and motioned her to go on ahead.

"C'mon!" he waved his hand towards him signaling for the little girl to come. "I'll show you."

"What's your name?" the little girl asked innocently as she made her way around the counter.

"I'm Peeta. I'm 8. How about you?"

"I'm Summer, and I'm one year younger than you." she replied as if to show him her math skills.

"So your named after the season?" Peeta laughed jokingly.

"You shouldn't be talking. You're named after bread."

Ouch. Peeta, being his sensitive self, pouted at the remark.

"Hey, it was a joke." Summer assured him, "Don't be all frown-like before Christmas!"

Peeta wiped his lips with the back of his hand as if to wipe his frown away. Of course, it didn't work.

A few minutes later, Summer tried to lighten up the mood with complements. "You're doing a really good job!"

A corner of Peeta's lips lifted a bit in an attempt to smile again. "Thanks" he continued with decorating the cake.

"Whoa! How're you doing that?" she asked impressed by his crafty hand work. "I wanna try! I wanna try!"

Peeta finally started smiling again almost forgetting her comment about his name. "Okay!"

Summer took the decorating tool with a bag of icing attached to it. Peeta showed her how she had to squeeze the bag in order to design the cake while guiding the tip of it with the other hand for more controlled curves and swirls. Summer's first attempt was pretty mediocre as she stuck her tongue to the side of her lips. The lines and swirls were obviously applied by shaky, first-timer hands due to the minor zigzags.

"Not bad for the first time." Peeta commented. He then began correcting Summer's mistakes by decorating over them.

"Eh." Summer tried to be modest.

The smell of baking bread resonated throughout the bakery. Peeta knew the dough was put in the oven and began salivating at the thought of it.

Young Peeta's mother left the kitchen, walked behind the counter, and rubbed young Peeta's hair in pride as she saw the well decorated cake. "Nice job, Peeta!"

"Summer helped me!" the young blonde informed her, happiness was in his voice.

Peeta's mother turned to Summer's. "I see our children have met each other." she said smiling.

"Yup. And your son was nice enough to let my daughter help decorate the cake." she replied.

"Mommy, can we come here more often? I wanna play with Peeta again. PLEEEAASSEEEE?" she begged being her hyperactive self.

"Well," her mother started. "if it's alright with them it's fine with me." she answered with a smile as she directed her statement towards Mrs. Mellark and young Peeta.

"You should come here and help me decorate some more cakes." the blonde boy suggested.

"Looks like that's a yes form both of us," Mrs. Mellark answered.

Both the kids looked and smiled at each other wondering when they can play again.

After thirty minutes, the bread was ready. Warm, toasty, steamy, soft bread freshly baked from the Mellark oven. Peeta's mom wrapped them in wax paper and handed them to Summer's mom.

"This _would _cost twenty tokens, but for the special occasion, I'll lower it to fourteen… for the family of Peeta's new friend." she looked towards Summer who was distracted talking with young Peeta.

"Thank you so much." Summer's mother said as she gave Mrs. Mellark fourteen tokens for the bread. "C'mon, Summer, time to go!"

"Aww!" she whined. "Oh well, it was nice meeting you, Peeta. Bye!"

"And Merry Christmas, you guys!" Peeta said aloud.

With that, Summer and her mother exited through the bakery door while the chimes echoed their jingle-jangle. They left being gifted with warm bread and a new friend.

Christmas passed along, and so did New Years, and Summer still played with young Peeta decorating cakes at the 'Mellark Bakery' every other day. Their friendship began to grow as young Peeta taught her his masterful decorating techniques. Pretty soon, Summer gained some decorating skills as well as art skills, and has gotten so much better at decorating cakes since the first time they met.

It was a hot, humid, summer-afternoon. Summer has mastered her cake decorating, with the help of Peeta of course, and she wiped some sweat excreting from her forehead due to the heat. The bakery was even hotter now that it's summer _and _the oven was radiating a lot of energy.

"Hey, guys, can you come in the kitchen for a second?" Peeta's mother asked.

Peeta and Summer headed for the kitchen to see what's up. That's when Peeta's nose cringed at the smell of this new 'cake' they had to decorate. "What is that smell?" Peeta asked repulsed by the scent.

The cake was flat with what looks like crumbs around the edges. The top was semi glossy, but the heat and moisture allowed the cake to emit a disgusting scent. "This is cheesecake," his mother replied. "I just want you guys to take it to the front and maybe add dollops of whipped-cream around the perimeter of it."

"Alrighty," Summer responded, grabbed the cheesecake, and delivered it to the front counter without a problem.

Peeta followed her and picked up a wooden spoon and whipped-cream. He scooped up a good dollop, like his mother said, and applied it on the cheesecake's circumference.

"This smells more like cheese than cake," Summer commented.

The young blonde was gagging throughout the process of it all, and Summer could tell he was displeased with the cake he was working with.

"You okay there?" Summer asked wondering about his status.

Without responding, he shook his head. Very soon, young Peeta could no longer tolerate the scent of the cheesecake attacking his nostrils. His face turned a very bright red, and Summer knew it wasn't because of the heat. Before long, Peeta bent over to the very right of the counter, and vomited all over the bakery's floor. Luckily, the bakery was empty, and that nobody can see his embarrassing predicament.

Before long, there was a pile of light, yellowish-brown liquid all over the floor with the consistency of oatmeal. Young Peeta wiped his lips to get rid of the leftover saliva.

Summer, being the best friend that she is, pointed at Peeta's puke, and began laughing hysterically. "Whoa! Looks like someone had oatmeal for breakfast!" It's funny how oatmeal looks the same way going in as it does going out.

"Gee," the young blonde started. "you're such a great friend." He said sarcastically putting his palms on his knees while still bent over.

When Summer finished her friendly, comical tirade, she put a hand on Peeta's right shoulder. "You okay there?" she asked still smiling.

"What does it look like?" he responded still bent over.

"I'll go get your mommy for you," she reassured. "I'll be right back."

x x

"I still remember your mom rushing to see if you were okay." she said laughing while finally finishing her unnecessarily long story.

"Wow, so _that's_ why my mother never made cheesecake anymore… or oatmeal." the teenaged boy replied.

There was a laughing outburst of "_Ahahahhas!" _from Peeta and "_Hhrruk!"_ snorts from Summer. When the laughs and snorts were over, the two friends became silent. Fireflies were beginning to light as the sun started to set over the horizon.

Peeta pointed towards the giant, orange ball of gas sitting atop the mountain range. "That's always been my favorite color," he says in calm voice.

"Hey, speaking of your mom, how is she?" she wondered. "You never really talked about her."

"That's cause I really don't want to," he replied pouting again. The mood became serious regardless of Summer's hyperactive personality.

"Oh c'mon. I remember her being really nice!" she said.

"Well, that sorta changed."

"When?"

"When she found out she was just a second choice."

"Wait, I don't get it."

"Long story short, my dad was in love with Katniss' mom. But her mom fell for a miner, and my dad tried to get over Katniss' mom by going for my mother. When I turned twelve, my mother found out that she's only second rate, and jealousy took over her. _That's_ when she began to change and started hitting me." the baker's son explained looking down at his double knotted shoes.

Even Summer calmed down from her hyperactivity. "So that explains that red mark on your cheek."

He sighed. "Kinda. Well, she kinda just hits me whenever she gets mad now. That's when she sorta yelled at me to apply for tesserae."

Summer repeated her previous procedure by locking her arms with his and resting her head on his left shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. The worst part is that my dad still defends her, ya know? Like just before I left the house, he was trying to justify this red mark on my face."

His best friend remained silent.

"He always blamed his sickness for everything, and it's saddening actually."

"That's really horrible." Summer responded.

"It just annoys me. He knows the reason why my mother hits me, but he always denies it. As if he's living this lie…"

"Well, no offence, Peeta, but you shouldn't be a hypocrite. Aren't you living a lie as well? Being all closeted and all?"

"Ooh. I walked right into that one, huh? I hate it when you're right," he said as they neared the entrance to the train station. "Wait here, okay? I'll be right back."

Summer nodded as she hugged him.

Peeta hugged her back but then broke their embrace. He motioned Summer to stay and wait for him as he walked towards the train station entrance. Ready to seal his fate. Ready for five more slips of paper… _with his name on them_.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

**Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it!  
**

**I'm new to fanficiton and I would love it if you guys would review and give me feed back on what I can improve on. Thanks! I don't really have an exact plot in mind, so suggestions would also be much appreciated. :)  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes: Thank you to those who reviewed. It means a lot to me. **

**This chapter was tough to write with my computer being all weird and not saving, and I had to start all over, and GAH! **

**Well I hope you guys like this one as we see a darker side in Peeta.  
**

**There _will _be violence in this chapter. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.  
**

* * *

**Prologue:  
**

**Chapter 2: The Bully  
**

The blonde teen was walking towards Summer looking like he just won the lottery, a very _sick _lottery. On his right shoulder, he lifted five sacks of grain roughly a dozen pounds each. On his left arm, he cradled five bottles of oil that's used for heat. Between his lips, he carried five sheets of what looks like advertisement posters.

"Mmhummerm!" he called to his friend mumbling due to the posters he carried in his mouth.

Summer turned around from the boulder she sat on and saw her best friend struggling with the weight he carried. "Oh my gosh, Cheesecake!" she exclaimed with worry. "Let me help you with that!" Of course, Summer snatched the lightest thing she saw: the posters.

"Wow. You're such great help!" Peeta was filled with sarcasm when he was finally able to talk.

"You are quite welcome," she scanned the advertisement posters.

"Very funny, Summer,"

"Fine. Here, give me the bottles of oil."

Peeta obeyed. "Thanks," he smiled. "Hey, we should head back. It's getting dark."

"Oh my gosh! I forgot about my little sister. Her soccer game's probably over by now." she gasped.

"Ha. I totally forgot how easily distracted you get," the blonde commented with a laugh.

The walk back was silent. It's not because they had nothing to say, but because speed walking in a rush while carrying a heavy load makes it hard to catch a breath.

By the time they made it back to the location of June's soccer game, the sky was the color of Summer's hair, and the light posts along the electric fence was flickering like a toddler who can't sit still. Then, a buzzing sound: the electric fence was turned on.

"June!" Summer yelled in hope that her little sister was still there. "Where are you?" She scanned the shadows of buildings with an effort to locate her younger sibling. It was hard to see, but she finally spotted a small girl in the corner of a building fiddling with a ball with her feet.

"Summer!" the little girl exclaimed with enthusiasm as she saw her older sibling. "I've been waiting forever for you, and I am starving." Then, there was a grumble in the pit of her stomach as if she swallowed an angry dog.

"Here, how about both of you help me carry these things back to the bakery, and I'll bake bread for the both of you, my treat." The young baker offered.

"Won't your mom get mad at you?" Summer asked remembering the red mark on Peeta's left cheekbone.

"Yeah, she will, but she'll probably lighten up once she sees you," he winked at her flirtatiously.

June stared awkwardly at the two teenagers. "Um…" she started, "Are you guys boyfriend and girlfriend?" she asked innocently because she didn't know that Peeta was… _gay_.

The question caught Summer and Peeta off guard. They stared at each other, became wide-eyed, and tried to hold back a laugh.

It didn't work. There was a very audible '_pffffftt' _as their laughter escaped their lips leaving June speechless and confused with two laughing teenagers in front of her.

"Oh, you have no idea," the two friends recited in unison when they've finally calmed down and wiped a tear from their eyes.

Then, the trio took their time heading towards the 'Mellark Bakery' as they shared jokes and embarrassing stories along the way.

Back at the bakery, Peeta's mother was giving her husband a spoonful of nasty tasting concoction that was supposed to relieve his symptoms.

"Here take your medicine," the baker's wife commanded as she spoon-fed her husband in bed with the liquid.

"Thanks," was the only word he could muster up as he laid back down.

"Are you okay? I mean, your temperature doesn't seem to be going down at all, and your symptoms are getting…" she trailed off. She knew her husband wouldn't be able to last until Peeta's birthday which is in three months.

"I'm fine." he replied while coughing violently and his stomach growling.

"I'd make you some bread, but we don't have anymore flour," she reassured.

"I know," he began, "Peeta told me before he left to get tesserae."

The baker's wife broke eye contact.

It got harder for the old couple to begin a conversation since his wife found out about the baker's true feelings. Or according to Peeta's dad, ever since _'he got sick'_. The baker knew it was awkward now, but he always hid it. Sparks just weren't there for him anymore.

In the room, the silence was unbearable. So the sick man began to speak about his wife's confrontation with Peeta earlier this afternoon.

"You didn't have to yell at him," the baker cleared his throat.

"He was giving back talk. What did you _expect _meto do?"

"You didn't have to hit him either," Peeta's dad weakly stated with an effort to defend his son.

"He _gave_ someone a discount which the full price could have been used for _your_ medicine!" she began raising her voice as tension grew in the small room. "And don't start pointing fingers at me!" She hissed.

"But you didn't have to _hit_ him!" he repeated with assertion and a cough. "You know, if it weren't for him, we wouldn't even have raw baking supplies for the bakery."

"If it weren't for him, there wouldn't be another mouth to feed…" she murmured almost inaudibly.

The baker paused for a moment being offended about his wife's remark regarding Peeta. "You've changed," he vented, "I remember how you used to love Peeta like a true mother would, but now-."

"I don't want to talk about it," she sternly interrupted.

Mr. Mellark finally gave up on her. "Just promise me, before I pass away…" The baker took his eyes off of his wife's and pointed them towards the ceiling. He probably knew his time was almost up as well. "Just promise me that you'll love him again."

She turned away from her husband as moisture built up behind her lower eyelids. That's when she heard the chimes' little jingle down stairs.

"Peeta's probably home with the things," she stated still looking away. "I better go make some bread for dinner." the baker's wife began to walk towards the door frame.

"Wait."

She paused for a moment; her back still turned to her sick husband.

"Promise me." the baker repeated, this time more as a command.

But she simply sighed and continued her journey down stairs.

As she descended the steps, she began to hear Peeta's voice ringing from the kitchen, so she grabbed the wooden spoon next to the cash register habitually ready to hit him. It was probably because of the tension she got from her husband just minutes ago, but in her mind, it was a good enough excuse to justify hitting Peeta.

She entered the kitchen with the spoon proudly held up high when she saw a glimpse of Summer and a little girl who looked similar to her.

"Hi, Mrs. Mellark," Summer greeted with a smirk. "This is my little sister June."

Summer pointed towards the little girl who gave Peeta's mother a shy 'hello'.

Soon, Peeta explained how they helped him carry the tesserae items back to bakery, so he's repaying their kindness with bread.

With that, the baker's wife put her arm down and began to lighten up at the sight of Peeta's childhood friend. Therefore, she just allowed him to make some bread for the entire family and June and Summer as well.

x x

Fourteen whole days have passed since Peeta's mother hit him. It was a new record. The bruise on his left cheek finally healed as he entered his school with pride as he was without a single black eye or mark from his mother.

But a different mark was about the draw itself on him. _Guilt._

It began with bread.

During lunch break at school, the young baker ate his bread at peace. It was only a small roll, and it was aged (and cold), but it was better than what most of the kids ate: nothing.

"Hey faggot!" The voice came from a tall, skinny boy with brown hair and olive skin who sat across from the baker. He was Peeta's bully ever since they were in fourth grade. "What ya eatin' there, Gayboy?"

_Gayboy_. His other nickname. Apparently, the kids at his school thinks Peeta's gay just because cake decorating and art is just was too feminine in District 12. Real men are miners. Real. Men. _Don't. Bake._

Peeta rolled his eyes at his bully, and he took his bread with him to a different empty table.

But the bully just followed the young baker. "Hey, where ya goin'?" he asked as he slipped a seat next to his prey a little too closely.

"Get away from me, Zep!" the blonde ordered.

But Zep just pushed him out of his seat with his tailbone landing on the ground. The predator was smirking. "What are you gonna do about it?"

The blonde boy painfully got up and dusted the back of his pants while Zep started munching on Peeta's lunch.

Zep stood up from the seat as well imitating his prey's actions.

"Go away, Zep. I don't want to fight." he demanded in a harsh but barely audible whisper.

"What was that?" he asked acting stupidly as he projected his voice to the entire lunchroom, "Did you say you wanted to fight?"

Before long, a large number of students gathered around and encircled Peeta and his aggressor. The audience was cheering, all of them. It reminded Peeta of the Capitol people during the Games, and he cringed at the thought.

"Are we gonna fight or what? Huh, Gayboy?" Zep challenged while pushing his prey forcefully on the shoulders.

Peeta took a step back as a reaction. "I don't want to fight you," he replied not wanting any part of this.

"Why?" he began to mock him. "You afraid of me?" The predator double tapped his chest with both of his hands.

The young blonde didn't want to admit it, but the taller boy was very intimidating. He just tried his best not to show his fear. "I don't want to fight, okay!" he repeated in a yell while he looked at the floor as he spoke.

"Oh, I know." Zep began, "you don't want to fight because _you're GAY!"_

Laughs up-roared from the audience which centered towards Peeta.

He felt weak, useless even. The snickers and laughs were thrown at him like stones bruising his very flesh. A tear drop leaked down his cheeks.

That was when he had it and pushed his laughing bully back enough for him to stumble backwards loosing his balance.

"So you _do_ want to fight me," the bully said with a smile that was ready to beat the gay out of Peeta.

"_FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!" _the crowd chanted.

This was it. The aggressor was looking forward for this moment since fourth grade. Zep balled his fist and threw the first punch. It landed right on Peeta's temple as the blonde boy flinched at the physical contact. His vision blackened, and he slouched for a second due to the impact.

"_OHHHHH!" _The viewers reacted with joy at Zep's punch.

Peeta stood there defenseless.

"C'mon, Gayboy, I though you were gonna fight!" he smirked as he raised his fists in a fighting pose.

The young baker slowly regained his sight and stood up straight to face his predator. He shyly raised his fists as well because it was too late to back away from the fight that already began.

Instantly, his eyes met with the small, brown eyes of a skinny girl with jet-black hair. It was Summer. She was the only one who wasn't cheering in the crowd. Instead, she gave him an approving nod signaling him to stand up for himself once and for all. Peeta nodded in response as he returned his focus on Zep who was ready for another strike.

Zep started toward the blonde with all his weight attached to the punch. As his body shifted forward, Peeta quickly ducks and drives a low jab to the stomach right above the belly button. Before the predator could put his hands on him, Peeta lunged to the left in an effort to get away.

There was another '_OHHHHH!' _from his peers. He turned and looked at Summer who had a serious expression on her face.

While Peeta was distracted, Zep took advantage of this moment, and landed a hooked punch to the young baker's left ribs. His fist came in contact with the baker's flesh, and he gasped and exhaled at the strike.

Then, the bully grabbed Peeta's shoulders, but he quickly pushed his predator away before he dealt any damage.

Before long, Zep tried a quick punch towards his victim's face. Peeta blocked it with his left arm and attempted to ignore the stinging pain.

The tall boy wasn't smirking anymore and went for a messy kick to the baker's sides. But before the brunette's foot contacted Peeta's ribs, the blonde darted to the right, which dodged the blow. Peeta then landed a speedy jab to Zep's face.

'_OHHHHH!'_ cheered the audience.

This forced the predator to snap like a twig as he gritted his teeth at Peeta. His face had a hateful expression stamped on it. "You _cocksucker!_" the bully screamed as he lunged forward with both hands grabbing and wrinkling Peeta's shirt.

As a reaction, Peeta stapled a lighting jab to Zep's diaphragm which forced air out of the taller boy.

After he recovered his breath, Zep sought for another, yet more polished, kick to the blonde's ribs. But while his right leg was airborne, Peeta sweep kicks the predator's left leg which forced dust to fly and Zep's knees to buckle.

The tall boy fell hard on the ground, and looked up at the short boy standing over him like a giant.

Peeta drew his right leg back and released a devastating kick to the predator's ribs.

An outburst of cheers escaped from the crowd which echoed in the cafeteria.

His father would definitely _not _be proud of this.

Peeta didn't care.

His bully curled into a ball as a reaction from his kick. He kicks again, this time aimed at Zep's lower spine.

"_WHOA!"_ the audience howled.

'_Look at him…' _Peeta thought as he gritted his teeth. Anger bathed his entire body. Rage invaded him like a virus.

The tall bully arched his back due to the pain.

Peeta didn't care. _'…Pathetic,' _he thought.

This time, it was a stomp. The blonde put all his weight on his foot and directed it to Zep's chest. Blood began dripping out of the tall boy's nose as air is forced out of his lungs yet again.

Students all around him were silent now at the sight of the crimson red liquid. The bully started to cough bile.

Peeta didn't care.

He drew his leg back once again, and proudly kicked his predator's head like it was a soccer ball.

A torrent of blood squirted our of Zep's lips.

_Silence._

"Who's the gayboy now, Zep!" Peeta questioned as rage overtook him.

The bully began to choke on some dark red fluid, a small pool of blood gathered next to his head, and a single drop of red liquid swam from his lip to his jaw as if it were a tear.

"Answer me!" The baker yells.

_Silence._

He pulled his foot back once more, but frail arms embraced his body tightly in an effort to stop him.

"Peeta, stop!" The voice ordered. "_You've won_!"

Again, Peeta didn't care. He struggled out of Summer's grip and pushed her hard to the floor.

The short blonde was about to kick Zep once again, but a voice stopped him.

"_Peeta_!"

He turned around still with gritted teeth. His face made it obvious that he was enraged.

Summer glared at the victor with innocent eyes. Her lower lip trembled in hurt due to the fact her best friend pushed her to the ground. Heavy tears rained down the red sky that was her cheeks.

She then got up, pushed students aside to get through the crowd, and ran away.

Peeta snapped back to reality. The lunch room was quiet except for his heavy breathing of anger. He turned to his bully.

Blood continuously dripped out of his mouth, and his shirt was soaking up the growing pool of the red liquid adjacent to his head. He laid there. _Motionless._

The baker took a look around his audience, and they all looked at him in horror and fear.

That was when his own tears of guilt trickled down his face, and he ran away just like Summer did.

'_What have I done.'_

x x

The sky was the color of District 12. Rain poured heavily and washed most of the coal dust from the ground. Summer hasn't spoke to Peeta in two weeks, and he missed hearing her hyperactive yet innocent voice.

Outside, the young blonde saw Katniss looking at him motionlessly in the rain. Peeta motioned his hand towards himself signaling for Katniss to come under the small awning to protect her from the pouring heavens.

Katniss, being limp and starved, pushed off the tree she leaned on, stood up, and trudged towards the young baker.

"You okay?" he asked as Katniss made it to the porch.

She only shook her head having no energy left in her to talk.

"Come in," he ordered as he pulled Katniss by the wrist into the safety of the bakery.

The huntress sat on a stool and laid her head down on a sack of flour on the kitchen table.

"I'll make you some bread." Peeta offered.

Katniss shook her head again in refusal, but the young baker knew she needed help and fast.

"It's fine," he explained. "I'm baking a cake anyway. I'm pretty sure an extra roll can fit in the oven."

Katniss sat there with her head on the pillow-like flour sack and smiled at the aroma that the oven diffused throughout the room.

The kitchen became silent as they waited for the things to be ready, but Peeta entertained himself by drawing on the back of the tesserae posters. He began with a round shape creating a head. Then, he started adding some human like features. The blonde began with ears, then the nose, then the lips. For the eyes, he draw them small, and finally, he pressed hard with his pencil to draw straight, smooth, jet-black hair.

When the two items in the oven finally finished baking, Peeta put his pencil down, folded his drawing, and neatly placed it safely in his pocket.

First, he took out the bread for Katniss. "Here," he handed her the freshly baked bread steaming from its warmth. "You need to eat." he ordered.

It took all of the huntress' leftover energy to sit up, meekly grab the soft bread, and place the warm delicacy into her mouth. She drooled as the pastry came in contact with her taste buds.

Then, Peeta took the one layered cake out of the oven.

"Thank you." Katniss finally regained the energy to speak. "But won't you get in trouble? I don't have money to pay for this."

"It's no problem," he stated, "just glad I could help. You see, my mom's left to get medicine for my dad, and she won't be back for, at least, another two hours. I don't think she'll notice some of the flour missing." Peeta reassured her as he was icing the cake with white, homemade frosting.

"I heard about Zep," she informed.

"Oh," he sighed scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, I got _expelled_ from school," the baker explained with a slow, shameful tone.

"Did you kill him?"

He paused. "Thankfully, I didn't. Even though he's bullied me since forth grade, I'd hate the thought of killing him. School Monitors and Peacekeepers examined the damages, and the worst I gave him is a concussion. It's pretty bad though. Then, I got a beating from my mom once I got home."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

"No, it's not," she began. "This is the second time you've saved me from starving to death," She remembered the first time when he threw her burnt bread, "and you had to suffer getting a beating from your mom. And…"

"Yeah?"

"I just feel like it's my fault,"

The young baker soon grabbed some cherry juice and added the color to the white icing to make pink. "Don't blame yourself. That's just what friends are for." he comforted her.

"_Friends_?" the huntress asked.

"Yeah," he said approvingly.

"I was never really good at making friends." she looked down at her moist bread in embarrassment with half of the roll in her stomach.

"Well," Peeta began. "You start making friends by not questioning it," he explained smiling as he wrote the words _I'm Sorry_ on the cake with the pink frosting.

"So, who's the cake for?" she continued eating the roll of bread.

"Some one I care about."

"That girl I always see you with?"

"Her name's Summer," Peeta weakly lifted the corner of his lips. "I haven't heard her voice since… _Zep._ I'm just hoping she'll forgive me," he said sympathetically as he finished decorating it with fancy swirls. "Done," he exhaled with accomplishment.

"Want me to help you deliver it?"

"You really want to?"

"It's the least I could do. And besides, we're _friends_ now right?"

Peeta smiled at her and nodded kindly towards her direction.

The young baker picked up the platter which the one layered cake was stationed in, and he pulled out the drawing from his right pocket. "Here, you can hold this," he ordered as he made his way to Summer's home with Katniss following him.

After arriving at her front door, Katniss knocked, and Summer answered it.

"Peeta?" Summer asked questionably.

Then, the baker showed her his creations. First, the cake, and then, the drawing of her which Katniss wonderfully presented. He smiled innocently in hope for her forgiveness.

Summer just gave him serious expression as she raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Aw, c'mon," he rolled his eyes. "Forgive me? Please?" Peeta begged her pleadingly with the same innocent smile.

She gave in on his puppy dog eyes and smile. "Just promise me your not going to try to hurt and kill again. Okay? I really didn't expect you to go that far, and you really scared me when you pushed me down."

The blonde nodded. "I promise. I'll never try to hurt and kill anyone again."

"Oh, come here, Cheesecake, I missed you!" she vented as she pulled Peeta into a hug.

"Cheesecake?" Katniss questioned.

Peeta grew rosy cheeks. "Umm… How about let's eat the cake first," the baker suggested trying to pry Summer off of him.

With that, Peeta introduced Katniss to Summer, another new friend, as they all sat on Summer's front steps. The three of them soon snacked on the cake with their bare hands handling the pastry, Summer commented on how precise and accurate Peeta's drawing was of her, and Katniss stuffed some cake in her pocket probably saving it for her family.

"Are you guys nervous?" Katniss broke the silence of the eating.

"About what?" Summer asked with a mouthful of cake.

"The reaping," she replied.

Katniss ruined a perfectly friendly mood. She really needed work on this whole '_making friends'_ thing.

"Well, my name's in the bowl thirty-two times," there was seriousness in Peeta's voice.

"Mine's been there twelve times," Summer became serious as well.

"Thirty-six for me," Katniss informed them.

"It's gonna be in two days," worried Summer. "Do you guys feel good about your chances?"

Peeta gulped down the piece of cake he was chewing. _"No."_

* * *

**Author's Notes: Ahhh! The reaping is finally here! I hope you guys enjoyed reading. :D**_  
_

**Hmm, I seem to have a habit of writing long chapters. I hope it doesn't hinder actual story. :/  
**

**Oh and sorry if I went overboard with Peeta beating up his bully. I kinda got carried away with it. And Cato will be introduced in the next chapter!  
**

**And I'll try to update every Friday, but I'm going to California next week so, next chapter might be delayed.  
**

**As always, please review! Tell me what you like or what you didn't like. Constructive criticism is much appreciated. :) Thanks!  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes: I lied. Cato won't be introduced in this chapter, but he is mentioned! :)  
**

**I am so sorry this chapter is super late. I started over 3x to write this. Oh the irony. So yeah I've shortened it, and made it Peeta's POV to get a small glimpse on what goes on in that head of his.  
**

**Enjoy!  
**

* * *

**Part 1: The Tributes**

**Chapter 3: The Pin  
**

My finger is pricked. As the red oozes out from the tip of my finger, they stamp my index on a blank card which now has a my blood on it.

Today is the Reaping, and everyone looks ready to die. Only one person has a cheeky grin on their face, and that is our escort. She is wearing my favorite color. Her outfit, her lips, and the flower in her overly frizzy hair is also sunset orange.

_Ugly._

That's probably the most correct word for her.

"Welcome, welcome!" the grinning lady starts, "and Happy Hunger Games!"

She continues speaking of how kind and wonderful the Capitol has been to the Districts, but I zone out. I just can't disagree more. When they play the annual video of how the Games came to be, I start to scan the crowd for anyone I know.

To my very right, where the girls are grouped, Katniss seems to be looking around just as I am. She's probably looking for Prim to see if the little girl's okay. Summer, who's two girls in front of Katniss, begins shaking. It's not a surprise, though. She never really knew how to stay still.

Then, I see Gale with his chin up probably ready to get reaped. To his left, a slouching boy with a semi-distorted face grabbing and taking hold on to one of Gale's muscular arms for support. I would have been jealous until I realize who it is. Zep and Gale are from the seam, so it only made sense that they'd help one another out.

"The time has come for me to select the two tributes for the honor of representing District 12 in the 74th Annual Hunger Games," she informs us cheerfully with her Capitol accent.

I can never understand why she's so happy to be choosing children to die. Then again, I never understood a lot of things.

The escort paces towards the large bowls where the girls' names are located and stirs the names around as if she's looking for a specific slip. She then pinches a card between her middle and index finger as she walks back towards the microphone.

I look towards Katniss who is now trembling just as bad as Summer. The silence is so deafening that I can hear the unfolding of the slip from where I'm standing.

"Eheh-Ehem," the orange woman clears her throat with a smile. She stands crookedly and inhales.

"_Summer Tai-Lee Zhang."_

Summer stops shaking as girls near her begin to back away like she's a terrifying monster. I can feel my best friend's fear escaping those eyes of hers. But she just stands there trying to refuse reality.

"C'mon up, dear!" the Capitol woman says excitedly. "Don't be shy!"

Everyone knows shyness isn't the issue here.

Peacekeepers all around are ready to usher Summer to the stage, but she finally moves herself towards the empty middle aisle to head towards the escort.

"Summer! Summer, no!" I bellow as I push people away to make a path towards her. Soon, Peacekeepers make a wall with their bodies to block me.

"Peeta!" She runs towards my direction but a few men in white suits already have their hold on her. Then, they direct Summer up the stage.

I flail and extend my arm to try and reach her, but the Peacekeepers are restraining me.

"Please, let's all give a warm applause," the escort suggests, "to the female tribute of District 12."

No one claps. Only she does.

I can't have this. Summer's the only person that accepts me for who I am. Even if it is illegal here in this district, she's the only one that never judged me for it. And now, my best friend has to die. I can't have it.

"_I volunteer," _I say faintly.

The Peacekeepers finally loosen their grip on my arms.

"I volunteer as tribute!"

I stand firmly with an _I-can't-believe-I-just-did-that_ look on my face. Others all around are already starting to judge me. I can tell.

But I have to do this. We'll have a higher chance of surviving if I do this because we work together so well. Plus, without her, I'll be a lonely gay boy.

Then, everyone becomes wide eyed from what I just said. Summer, the Peacekeepers, the escorts, even Zep becomes wide eyed.

"Wow!" the orange woman exclaims, "District 12's very first volunteer!"

The white suited men who were restraining me are now escorting me to the grey stage. I'm hesitant to climb the steps, but I go up regardless.

"Can you believe it? Ehem…" our escort states, "…What is your name, young man?"

"Peeta Mellark," I tell her.

There is a long quietness in the crowd, but of course, the Capitol woman breaks the ice.

"Well, let's all have a warm applause for District 12's very first volunteer. Peeta Mellark." Again, she was the only one clapping.

As I stare at the crowd one last time, I see Katniss with a devastated look on her face knowing she just lost two people that she recently made friends with. The huntress kisses her left middle three fingers, and raises them in the air. This gesture signifies a farewell to someone you respect. She is the first to do this, and soon others repeat her action as the entire District 12 has their arms and fingers raised towards their tributes.

"Without further adieu, Happy Hunger Games!" the orange lady states. "And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor."

Summer looks at me shaking her head in disapproval of what I've done. I just look down. Hopefully she'll understand.

Soon, we are taken in custody at the Justice Building where she and I are put in separate rooms where there is no possible chance of escaping.

A Peacekeeper walks in.

"Good day, tribute," he says in a firm, official tone, "You will be allowed exactly thirty minutes for visitations before the Tribute Train arrives, and only one person is permitted in this room at a time. At the end of those thirty minutes any visitor in here who is not willing to depart will be, instead, forced to do so by my team. Is that clear?"

I nod due to the lack of words, and before long, he exits.

x x

"You fool!" my mother tells me. "Why would you volunteer? Who would run the bakery? Your father's sickness is getting worse! What's wrong with you?"

I stay quiet as she paces the room flailing her arms around. She's obviously dumbfounded by what I've done.

"Do you expect me to run the bakery by myself? You know your brothers are growing up and drifting away from the family, and yet you still volunteer?"

I sigh trying to dodge the arrows she shoots at me.

"You will be considered the stupidest person in District 12 history. Volunteering? C'mon, Peeta!"

Finally, I had enough. She's wasting my time with her comments. "Please leave" I say politely.

"Excuse me?"

"I said leave!" I repeat this time with more assertion.

"What?" she stares at me with piercing eyes.

At first, I hold back what I want to say to her, but knowing this might be the last time I'll see her. She might as well know the truth. "You wanna know why I volunteered?" I finally let out my true feelings. "Because this district hates me for who I am. In fact, living here, it's illegal to be who I am! I'd rather die with the one person that doesn't judge or hate me than live in this miserable excuse of a district."

"Illegal?" she starts questioning me. "What's illegal?"

"I'm gay! Don't you get it?…" I pause knowing I have a little bit of explaining to do. "I told Summer when I was twelve. Summer's the only one that never hated me for it, and knowing she might never come back… Well, I'd rather die with my best friend who actually cares about me than live with you who beats me!" I raise my voice as tears followed.

_Slap!_

I flinch from the impact. More tears leak from my eyes, and they travel down my face. I just got hit, once again, not by the wooden spoon, but by the hands of my own mother.

"You see?" I start while looking away. "Even you hate me now, too. Don't worry. The feeling is mutual."

_Thwaak! _She hits me again. "Well, Peeta," she replies, "good riddance." Then she exits.

Her hits stab me like daggers, but her final words are like salt in the wounds. I cry in the emptiness of that small room. What else was there for me to do?

About two minutes later, my older brother Ryen walks in on my crying.

"Hey, Peeta, you alright?" asks my brother. "Mom walked out, and she looked very mad. What did you tell her?"

"I can't tell you," I sob.

"Yes you can. I'm your brother. Whatever it is, it can't be worse than…" he looks down. "It can't be worse than being forced into the Games."

"Rye', promise you'll still love me as your brother?" I sob again.

"If you win or not you'll always be my brother." He reassures me. "Why? What's wrong?"

"I'm gay," I say it with more confidence this time as my sobbing slows to a stop. So if he doesn't like it, well, I'll either come back dead or as a victor.

My brother stands there speechless like he's trying to comprehend two simple words.

A few seconds pass. "Ryen, say something."

"I just can't believe… Wow… I never would have guessed… Hmm… I can't believe my brother is…"

"Yeah," I interrupt.

He sighs. "You know what, I don't care about that stupid law." he finally decides, "You are still my brother. Like I said, win or lose, gay or straight, you will always be my brother."

He hugs me, and I embrace him back. See, this is what real family is suppose to do. Real family is suppose to love you no matter what.

"I'm gonna miss you, Peeta." Ryen breaks the hug and heads towards the door. "I'll wish you the best of luck, brother."

"Wait!"

He quickly turns.

"Can you tell Dad about me and that I'm sorry. And Bammy as well. I know he's taking care of Dad just so you and mom can visit me."

"Don't worry I will. And stay safe, Peeta." My brother positively nods, gives me a quick embrace, and exits the room.

Katniss is the last to visit me, and to be honest, I'm quite surprised. I never would have expected her to visit.

The girl tells me that she's flat out sad and disappointed that she has to lose two new friends. Katniss also thanks me for the times I've given her bread to save her life, and she wishes she can do something to save mine. Finally, she wishes me luck just like Ryen did. She was saying something about a token for the Games when a Peacekeeper walks in.

"District 12 Male Tribute, your thirty minutes are now over. The Tribute Train has arrived, so your visitor must now leave." he steps towards Katniss with arms out to grab her and starts to force her out of the room.

"Let me go!" she screams.

I can't do anything about it. Then, I see my new friend drop a gold colored object just as the Peacekeeper forces her out.

I walk over to it as the object reflects the light from the room. I pick it up and recognize the shape: a mockingjay pin.

x x

The train ride to the Capitol is awkward. Summer won't talk to me. I find out our escort's name is Effie (dumbest name I've ever heard even though I shouldn't be talking). And our mentor, Haymitch, is a total drunk and won't bother to guide us whatsoever. Yup. Twelve long hours of silence and Effie complaining about the type of wood her chair is made of.

Once we get to the Capitol, my mind is awestruck. It's blindingly and hideously beautiful. The architecture is jaw dropping, but the people make me cringe.

I wave to them with a fake smile knowing one thing: If Summer and I are going to survive as long as we can, we have to make these people like us.

"Summer," I wave my hand towards me to motion her to come to one of the windows, "do what I do, just trust me."

She nods and waves at them as well. She plasters a plastic smile on her, too. These Capitol people are so easy to play around with. A single wave form the both of us can start an uproar in the crowd. Their behavior deserves a face palm from me, but I force myself not to do it.

Then, we arrive at the Remake Center where we are readied to be showcased at the opening ceremonies. My prep team doesn't waste any time as they begin to alter my appearance in a light level.

They begin by making me strip off all the clothing I had on, and I blush at my exposed body as I cover my private area with both of my hands. I don't mean to brag. Sure, I had a nice chest and thick arms from carrying sacks of flour everywhere, but I'm not the _'biggest'_ guy out there. I think you know what I mean.

Next, they point to a counter with light padding. It's probably where they experiment on me.

Dove, the cleaner girl, starts washing the dirt off of my face, my hair, and the rest of my body. While she does her scrubbing, Cosmo, the hair guy, begins painfully removing _all_ of my body hair. And lastly, Mac, the make-up guy, starts putting these powders and stuff on my face which tickled when the brush contacted my cheeks.

After they finish the procedure, I look at my reflection on the nearest hand mirror.

_I look terrible. _There's a thick layer of just powder on my face which makes me look like a _clown._

Regardless, they usher me to the next room where my stylist, Portia, will do some final touch ups. I hope she fixes the mess that my prep team did.

Soon, I force my body to progress to the next area. "Are you ready?" Portia asks me.

I nod as a reply. Saying 'no' would have been pointless anyway.

Portia guides me to a reclining chair where multiple colors of powder are ready to invade my skin.

"So your supposed to make us look pretty?" I address with a stern voice.

"No," she says. "I'm here to make you look… _fabulous."_

I roll my eyes at her remark, but I let her do her job anyway.

Before long, she completes altering my face, so I look to the mirror to take a peak at my reflection. To my surprise, I look _natural_. The thick powder was gone. Sure, I have no more body or facial hair, but I look… _clean._

"The layer of powder earlier was just to remove the excessive dead skin." she explains. "Here put your costume on. My co-stylist designed this, so if you don't like it, blame him!" she says with a laugh.

Quickly, I put on the jet-black leather costume that matched Summer's hair as we go to the Chariot Stables to meet up with the others.

Summer is talking with her stylist while my prep team, Portia, and I meet up with them.

"This is synthetic fire," the stylist tells Summer who was wearing the same costume as me. "It won't hurt you as long as you don't inhale the gas."

She seems to be paying attention. I doubt it though.

Haymitch and Effie arrive and exchange a few words with our stylists. As they have their miniature meeting, I try to engage in a conversation with Summer.

"Look, I know you're mad at me," I start.

"Yeah, I kinda am," she agrees with an attitude.

"But I had no choice!"

"What do you mean you had no choice?"

"I mean…" I try to explain myself, but nothing comes out.

"Why'd you do that?" she asks. "The last thing I want is to witness you die!"

"Well, I don't want to witness your death either!"

"Then why'd you volunteer?"

"Because… if you die, I'll have no one else."

Then, she makes that face that toddlers make before they sob in a rampage of tears.

"Because… if you go, then I'll have to be all alone in District 12 with no one to share my gayness with." I raise my lower lip and pout giving her one of my famous puppy dog eyes.

Summer starts to sniffle as she's at the verge of crying.

"So what do you say?" I ask. "Friends?" I open my arms offering a hug.

To my surprise she lets go of her tears. "Mhhmm," she nods as she accepts my offer and tightly embraces me. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you all day," she whines still sobbing into my chest. I can tell this whole _'being a tribute' _thing has finally hit her.

"It's no big deal," I say as I try to calm her down. "Listen, we have to stay strong okay? We can't show the other tributes that we're weak. So no more crying okay?"

Her sobbing slows down, but I can still feel a torrent of wetness running down her face. Summer is still crying.

I sigh, but I'm glad she finally talked to me. Hopefully, we survive as long as we can together. I'm not too worried, though. Me and her mesh gears pretty well. After all, she's helped me with being comfortable about being gay. Regardless, I keep a firm embrace in hope she'll calm herself a little bit.

While she holds me tightly, I spot a tall blonde boy with hazel brown eyes wearing a bronze ancient Roman armor who is staring at me. At first I smirk and give him a friendly nod thinking he's a nice tribute. That is until he holds his right index finger up to the left side of his neck and drags it across his right side mouthing the words: _'You're dead!'_

* * *

**Author's Notes:**_  
_

**Yup! Summer is emotional and hyperactive! lolz XP and yeah Peeta's mom is a real bitch! DX  
**

**Anyway, I lied about Cato being introduced in this chapter. He is merely mentioned. (Don't Kill me!)  
**

**Please give a review on your thoughts. Such as things you liked or didn't like. Or maybe how I should approach Cato's character. Things like that.  
**

**So yeah constructive criticism is appreciated. Thanks for Reading! :D  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes: First off, Thank you to those who cared enough to review. I really appreciate it! :)  
**

**A new concept is introduced woohoo! I hope you guys enjoy it was super hard for me to get inspired to write this story so it's probably not my best. hehe. And I've shortened the Chapter a bit more. oh and Just a reminder, this is Peeta's POV.  
**

**Here Peeta interacts with mysterious Cato a little bit more. C:  
**

******Enjoy! :)**  


* * *

**Part 1: The Tributes  
**

**Chapter 4: The Arcade  
**

Summer and I are on fire.

_Literally._

Cinna, Summer's stylist, has lit our costumes with synthetic fire, and as our chariot enters the City Circle, Haymitch and Effie simultaneously yells at us to hold hands.

At first, the idea's awkward, but I grab her hand and raise it up in the air. Right at that moment, the crowd burst into cheers. This is another eye-roll-worthy moment, but I stop myself and paint a fake smile on my face as Summer waves with her free hand. We are soon showered with a continuous deluge of flowers and top hats. All we need to do is make these people like us, and it's working perfectly. The more they like us, the longer we'll survive.

The chariot stops in front of President Snow up on a massive pedestal where he welcomes us and salutes us for our courage and 'sacrifice'. Ugh. I roll my eyes being annoyed by his lies. Then, he makes a brief speech on why the Hunger Games are so important, which, of course, are more of his lies. Lastly, he wishes us a _'happy' _Hunger Games. He says, "…And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor."

With that, we depart from the City Circle to be transported to the Tribute Tower.

Our chariot is the last to arrive at a large empty room where the tributes' stylists are waiting.

I step off the chariot and face Portia. "Peeta, here's your training attire," she hands over a black training shirt with a red number '12' on its left and right shoulders. Then, she points to a door, to the left of giant double doors, where the other male tributes are entering. "Over there is the tribute men's locker room. Your locker is marked with a '12', and as for your costume, there's no need for it anymore, so you can throw it in the garbage chute."

"Thanks," I reply.

I take the training outfit and walk towards the locker room as I see other tributes doing the same. During my trip there, the blonde tribute boy who was staring at me earlier, comes up from behind me and pushes the back of my right shoulder with enough force for me to lose my balance and stumble to the floor.

He nonchalantly walks away with an evil smile probably planning my death in his head.

The locker room is white and unbelievably high-tech. We all strip from our costumes revealing _all_ of our body. I am very self-conscious, so being naked in front of a bunch of boys makes me uncomfortable. My biggest worry is that I might get an erection in front of all of them and die of embarrassment.

The experience isn't all bad. I mean, I keep stealing glances from the blonde boy and his frame reminds me of Gale's, except not as defined. He then turns around to face me, and I quickly look away from his direction. The room is pure white, so hiding my obvious red face is difficult.

Luckily, an announcer talks in the speakers grabbing everyone's attention.

_Attention tributes, Attention tributes. Please proceed to the Training Center in five minutes._

The moment the announcer finishes, all of the tributes are ready and leave the men's locker room. The blonde boy, who I figure is from District 2 according to his shirt, stays behind.

I ignore him as I ready myself to put on my training shirt. That's when he pushes me again. This the time, the push is twice as hard which leaves a _thud _as I bounce off the glass locker next to mine.

This kid may have Gale's body, but his behavior reminds me more of Zep.

"What's your problem!" I ask very annoyed.

Again, he puts on his evil smile and leaves me be.

x x

I walk through the large double doors, and I arrive in the Training Center with all the tributes encircling a round, raised platform. Pretty soon, a young woman with mocha skin wearing a grey uniform, with the Capitol logo on the shoulders, steps up the slightly raised platform and begins to speak.

"Good evening, tributes, my name is Ms. Foren and welcome to the Training Center," she greets in a formal way. Then, she begins to explain how things are going to work. "Here, you may train everyday until the Hunger Games arrive. Now, with the approval of President Snow, the Game Makers have decided to _extend _your stay here in the Tribute Tower to build your skills of survival out in the arena."

Us tributes begin muttering to our district partner about the thought of staying longer just to die. Summer and I simply look at each other with disbelief.

"Quiet down!" she orders.

Our whispering stops.

"That's not all," she continues. "The Game Makers have also asked me to host the mandatory pre-Hunger Games challenges that will take place every three days."

We look at each other questioningly because we all have the same question in our minds.

"Before you ask, let me explain." She points around the room at glass tubes that are equidistant from each other and seem to have enough room to fit eight flour sacks in. "See those glass tubes all around the Training Center? Every three days, each of you has to enter your respective tubes which is marked by your district number. At precisely nine o'clock in the morning, the platforms in the tubes will be lowered to a deep underground floor, in which the Game Makers like to call '_The Arcade'."_

Suddenly, I hear my blood pump in my head due to the nervousness I am feeling. What are they gonna make us do down there?

"Now, the arcade is where all of you will be competing in challenges to aid in your judgment on your individual survival skills," she continues. "If you are victorious in the challenges, you will receive a blessing from the Capitol, and we are even kind enough to give you three options to choose from. All in all, there will be twelve challenges all together, and on the thirty-ninth day, the Hunger Games, the true challenge, will take place. I will spare you the details for when we arrive at the arcade, so for now, you may go about the Training Center for about an hour until its closing time at ten o'clock. Tributes, happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favor."

Ms. Foren exits as the round platform descends to the floor.

Immediately, we scatter and diffuse throughout the Training Center to try out the different stations. Summer goes to the fire making station while my curiosity takes over and forces me to explore the different stations this place has to offer.

There's the camouflage station where a girl from District 8 is trying to paint her left arm with the same texture as the synthetic grass. I watch her as her first attempt fails.

Then, I move to a weight station that seems to be empty at the moment, so I give it a try. The rack gives me options of a few weights ranging from five pounds to four-hundred. I start simple with a ten pound weight tossing it at the throwing area and landing slightly past the fifty foot mark.

I grin at my amazing throw and head for a heavier weight. The seventy-five pound weight pulls on my arm as I try to lift it off the rack. There's difficulty in throwing it at first, but I soon find my will power to swing my arm forward and toss the heavy weight. It lands slightly further than the thirty foot mark landing with a loud _blang _as the metal weight hits the hard floor.

Everyone briefly turns to look at the noise I made, but then they quickly return back to their businesses.

Not wanting any more attention, I move to the next station where there are quite a few treadmills. I run on a treadmill next to one occupied by the girl from District 5.

"Hi," I say to her as I start the treadmill at walking speed.

The girl simply looks at me and continues her jogging.

Maybe she's just out of breath for a conversation. Whatever, it doesn't matter; we might have to kill each other anyway. Soon, I set my treadmill to a steady jogging speed and continue at a steady pace.

After about twenty minutes of jogging, most of the tributes already left for dinner.

I finish jogging as I am drenched in sweat, and there are only about fifteen minutes left before the training center closes. I am in desperate need for a towel, but there aren't any around.

"Cheesecake!" Summer calls to me.

"Sum-mer," I say panting.

"You okay?" she asks as she approaches me from the wildlife station.

"Yeah…" I say inhaling after each word, "I'm just… out of… breath… Can you… get me… a towel?…"

"Sure. I'll just run up to our floor. Do you mind waiting?"

"I'll wait…" I say gratefully.

I find a bench near the combat station to sit and rest up.

This is one of those decisions that I regret because I see the boy from District 2 practicing his sword skills. Surprisingly, he moves with grace instead of brute force. Its like a dance of death when he swings to decapitate a dummy and then stabs another one right through the heart. It's very beautiful actually, but in a sick way.

Then, he yanks his sword out of the dummy and looks to face me.

Again with the evil smile. Gosh, what's wrong with this kid? It's like he wants me dead before the games even start.

To my surprise, he starts walking towards me.

"The hell you looking at?" he asks me.

I didn't even realize I was staring. "Umm… I-I was just… Nothing," I reply.

He continues to walk towards me threateningly. "Are you calling me nothing!"

"Okay, okay!" I say. "I was just admiring your sword skills…" Oh gosh. Why did I just say that?

"_Pffffft!" _laughter escapes his nose. "Hahaha!" He soon walks away laughing to join the other careers.

Oh, just kill me already. If not by a sword, embarrassment will finish the job. I sit there sweaty and embarrassed. Other tributes are already looking at me weirdly, including the boy from 2. Where's Summer with that towel?

x x

Dinner starts with bread that the avoxes served.

I bite into one expecting a high quality roll of bread. But instead I taste a dry roll that probably isn't kneaded well before being put in the oven. Even I can make better bread than this.

As I eat, I let my thoughts wander. But no matter how far away my enigmatic thoughts travel, they some how end up back to the boy from 2. I really don't know why he keeps popping up in my head considering that I don't even know his name.

"Peeta, is there something wrong? You haven't even touched your vegetable samosas," Effie says across the dinner table.

I didn't even realize I zoned out that long. "Oh, umm... I'm just not hungry," I lie.

"He didn't have a very good first day," Summer interrupts.

"Well, duh!" Haymitch says drunk. "No tribute ever has a good first day. Don't take that upon yourself! Just eat! You're gonna need your energy."

"It's not that. It's…" I pause to think of appropriate words to say. "Never mind. Please, excuse me."

With that, I push my chair out from the table, and walk out the door not caring where I might end up.

While walking the hallways, I keep thinking about my few interactions with the boy from 2 as I try to figure out why he's been giving me death glares. Did I do something wrong? I mean, besides staring. But still, he started at me first. It's only fair that I returned the favor. Maybe he _does_ want to kill me. But at the same time maybe I…

After being lost in the labyrinth of hallways, I decide to enter the main elevator. Inside, I press a room button that's marked with the letter 'R' right above the '12' button. I've never heard of this room before, so I decide to go up. Hopefully it can help take my mind off of _him _for a bit. The doors close, and I feel like I gain a few extra pounds as the elevator makes its way up.

As I exit the elevator, I am greeted by an empty room with thick windows acting as the outer walls.

I decide to walk towards the edge of the room to see the view. Then, I am assaulted by a city of lights right in front of my eyes. I thought the Capitol looked beautiful during the day, but at night, it looks even more magnificent. It's ridiculous. The scene is like a firework show in each building, and I'm shocked at how bright it is during the night time.

But if there's one thing I notice, the sky is different.

_There's no stars._

Back in District 12, the night may not be as bright as the Capitol, but our district is illuminated by the beautiful stars that twinkle with luster.

Here in the Capitol, It's like the lights here on earth is overpowering the natural lights up in the heavens. It doesn't seem right to me.

After a good hour of just sitting near the window, clearing my thoughts of… _him,_ and absorbing the cityscape, I hear the elevator make that _ding_ sound. Then, it opens revealing the male tribute from District 2.

Oh gosh. He's probably here to kill me now. Why wouldn't he? He's already pushed me twice, and he's advanced towards me with his sword.

"Twelve!" he says.

"How'd you find this place, Two?" I ask.

He snickers. "Umm… I pressed the 'R' button? I was pretty curious so I pressed it, and now I'm here." He walks to the window and takes a seat on the floor across next to me. His hazel brown eyes reflecting the luminance of the city.

"Okay…? So what do you want from me, Two?"

"Well, honestly, I was looking for you."

"What for?" I question.

"Look, Twelve, I know I've been intimidating you right from the get go," he starts. "But that's just my act for people to be scared of me. I have a reputation to keep. Anyway, I saw you throw those weights, and I saw you run for twenty minutes straight without getting too tired."

"Well technically, I was jogging." I reply.

"That doesn't matter," he says. "What I'm trying to ask is… Will you be part of the careers?"

I look at him in complete surprise. "Me? A career?"

"Yeah, Twelve! We can really _use_ you."

I pause for a moment to organize my hurricane of thoughts. If I join, there's a chance I can convince them to keep Summer safe. But if I don't, both of us may not stand a chance out in the arena.

"So what's your answer?" he asks.

"No," I reply.

"What? Why?"

"I have my reasons, Two," I say as I shift to a different seating position.

"Like what?" He seems annoyed at me now.

"Well first, I don't even know your name-."

"Name's Cato," he interrupts.

"And secondly, you said you can _use _me. I, for one, am _tired_ of being used. My mom used me as a punching bag, the Capitol is using me for their entertainment, but I will not be used by a few careers who will end up killing me anyways. So no."

"Listen, you're only saying no because you want something in return. Am I right?"

"Well…"

"See? I knew it. How about a blow job?" he proposes nonchalantly.

I look at him wide eyed in shock of what he just offered me. And… is he gay too? "What!" I ask in disbelief.

"It's simple trade. It's more of a bribe actually," he explains. "You join the careers, you get the blow job of your _life._ No pun intended."

"What?" I say again. "No! Th-that's… ugh! No!" I can't even put proper words into my mouth. "That's just wrong!" I say as I make my way into the elevator and press the '12' button.

"Well that's too bad!" he yells form across the room. "People say I'm an amazing _sex toy!_"

* * *

**Author's Notes: Okay so for further explanation, the pre-Games' purpose is to train the tributes so the capitol has a more interesting entertainment.**

**Anyway, I don't think I showed Cato's aggressive side too well. What do you guys think?  
**

**Well, I decided to try to post every Wednesday because Friday isn't working out for me. Please review! and Oppinions are good! :) Thanks! I hope you enjoyed reading!  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes: This is a day late. I know. I am super sorry! D: Again. Thank you soooooooo much to those that reviewed. It means so much because I'm still a beginner when it comes to writing, and it feels awesome to know people actually like what I write! :)  
**

**If anyone noticed, for each chapter that I've written, I divide it into three parts, and the title of each chapter is the main idea or a topic of the middle part of the chapter.  
**

**Enjoy Peeta fantasizing about a certain someone! ;)  
**

**Review for an abnormally long chapter! :D  
**

* * *

**Part 1: The Tributes  
**

**Chapter 5: The Lies  
**

Stressed from the first day of being a tribute, I toss my training clothes aside and collapse on the comfort of my bed. I lie there staring at the ceiling with my blanket enveloping me like a marshmallow cloud, protecting me from the pinching coldness of the dark air.

The thought of me being a career still swirls through my head. I already said no to him, but what if I said yes? Would that have been worth it?

If I have said yes, I probably would've gotten that blow job from him (maybe I would've liked that), but he'll kill both me and Summer later on. Well, it doesn't matter anymore. What's done is done, and I already said no.

Besides, I'll most likely be their first target especially since I've annoyed him enough times today. What's his name again? Cato? It doesn't matter.

Oh gosh. I'm thinking about him again.

My eyes flutter shut, and sleepiness takes over. My heart rate slows, my breathing deepens, and I fall asleep with my last conscious thoughts on the boy from 2.

That night, I dream a very vivid scene. Enough for me to wet-dream all over my boxer briefs.

"Peeta! Get yourself ready, dear!" Effie politely commands as she brutally bangs on my door, waking me up from my unfinished dream. "Breakfast is waiting on the table, and you're gonna want some energy for the second day of training!"

"I'll be right there, Effie!" I yell being annoyed. For me, it's difficult to leave the warmth and safety of my bed since I've never had this luxury before. However, I force myself up to head for my bathroom.

I really need a shower.

I strip off my sticky boxer briefs, step in the shower, and close the shower door. Even inside, the shower is hi-tech. There's a touch pad where it allows me to choose the temperature of the water, so I slide my finger to a hot ninety-five degrees Fahrenheit. Lastly, I tap the little water droplet icon.

Soon, the shower ceiling pours water on me, and it does look and feel like real rain, except for the fact that its nice and hot.

The touch pad then shows me a variety of shampoo and bodywash. I tap a random shampoo button (being unfamiliar with the brand name), and a cold, viscous liquid squirts from the shower ceiling which lands onto my head.

Amazed, I lather the clear-green shampoo onto my blonde hair. I couldn't help but appreciate the aroma its giving off as the suds clamber down my body. It smells… _sexy_.

That's when flashes of my dream the night before starts appearing in my head. I close my eyes as I let the heated water wrap me in its warmth, allowing me to rewind to my dream that night.

My dream took place back at the 'R' floor. Cato finds me sitting there by myself, and just starts talking to me like he's known me forever. But soon, I turn down his offer of being a career.

"Listen," he says. "Maybe you're only saying that because you want something in return. Am I right?"

"Well…" I respond. But he's right. I do want something in return.

"See? I knew it. How about a blow job?" he proposes. "Right here… Right now…" He seductively gazes towards me.

In the shower, I fantasize by letting my hands travel my sensitive body as I replay my dream.

"Okay," I gulp.

He advances towards me with possessive eyes and that evil smile. Then, he leans forward and attaches his warm lips on mine.

I sit there with open eyes watching the other boy's lips contacting my lips, but then I notice how he kisses me softly, not aggressively. I allow my eye-lids to dive shut as I kiss him back returning the same amount of passion, if not, more.

"Cato…" I groan in the shower as I caress my growing penis imagining that he's the one rubbing it.

He breaks the kiss and impatiently pulls down my training pants and my boxer briefs. This reveals my fully erect penis which springs out to finally get some fresh air. First, he grabs it and eagerly licks the sticky pre-cum leaking out of the slit, and I give a moaning exhale showing him that I'm enjoying it.

Briefly, he looks up to me as if he's waiting for my approval to continue.

"Mhhmm," I nod.

Back in the shower, my hand reaches down to massage and cup my nuts the same way he did in my dream. Now, the steaming mist in the shower is making me more hot and bothered. I begin stroking myself as I remember him placing my hard dick in his wet mouth.

While being pleasured, I feel him moan as the vibrations play with my oversensitive cock. My breathing quickens, and my balls tighten up.

"I'm close!" I yell at him with innocence.

The blonde boy continues to bob his head which slathers me moist and wet. This is perfect. And with just the right amount of friction, too.

Then, he swallows all of me, going deeper, until my penis disappears in his mouth to the point where I can feel the small stubble on his chin slightly brushing my sack. He juggles my sensitive nuts in the process.

It feels so good!

With him continuing the up and down motion on my dick and going deeper each time (if that was possible), I reach my violent orgasm just as he backs away from me slightly choking on a hot string of my sperm.

Arching my back, satisfaction electrocutes me with pure pleasure just as I squirt and leak a few more torrents of hot semen.

He allows his eye-lids to fall shut as he slowly drags his tongue from the bottom base to the top of my shaft. Cato licks the semen off to clean me up and sips on the head of my dick one more time before backing away. A mixture of gooey cum and spit bridges the gap between his lips and the opening of my still oozing length. He swallows half of the cum in his mouth and saves the other half for me.

With the other half of my hot cum still in his mouth, he crawls up to me signaling me to open my mouth. We sloppily kiss again and I taste the contents of my explosive climax entering my oral cavity. His lips taste different this time. It tastes like sweet-salty sex, that is, if sex has a taste.

Cato breaks our sensual kiss. "You're part of the careers now," he informs and steals one last peck. "And there's no turning back."

I open my eyes to be awaken by the steamy rain shower with its heat still embracing me. I also notice the white cum stain on the shower wall and on my right hand pretending to be Cato's mouth. My breathing becomes heavy due to quick exhaustion, and my fantasy and my shower session ends with the pitter-patter of the water on the floor.

Maybe I should have said yes to him last night.

x x

Once I put on a new pair of training attire, I exit my room to be greeted by the smell of various meats and breakfast goods.

As I pull up a chair next to Summer, my stomach gives off an audible grumble before sitting down.

"You must be really hungry considering you didn't eat last night," she scolds.

"Well good morning to you too, Summer," I mock.

Before my best friend starts giving me the usual piece of her mind, Haymitch interrupts her. "So how'd you sleep?" he asks.

"I slept pretty well, actually," I say. I catch myself before I say anything about my dream and my little session in the shower. That would have been very embarrassing.

An avox pours me a large glass of chilled orange liquid while I place a large quantity of food on my plate.

"Whoa. Slow down there, Peeta. You don't want to be too full for training," Effie suggests.

"Effie, I've never had a decent meal in my life," I reply as I start with my bread.

"Anyway," Summer interferes, "what happened last night? Why'd you just walk out on us, Cheesecake?" she asks.

"_Cheesecake?" _Effie and Haymitch simultaneously question with an awkward face.

"Yup. That's my nickname for him," she says proudly.

"Umm… let's not get into that topic," I tell them. "Yeah, uh, I just had a lot on my mind, so I took a walk." I lie scratching my head, and I try to sound as casual as possible. They don't need to know the full truth of what happened last night.

"You're lying," Haymitch points out.

I freeze in place. "No I'm not! I just walked around," I respond in defense. "That's it, I swear!"

"I've been a mentor a long time, Peeta, or Cheesecake, or whatever food you want to be called. In time, I've learned to figure out if tributes are lying," he explains. "Plus, I'm sober right now making me very aware of other people, and _you_ are not telling the _full_ truth."

Defeat hits me with a sigh. "Okay fine," I say taking a bite off my roll of bread. "Was I really that obvious?"

"Yes," he says taking a sip of his… is that red wine? "You scratched your head, you became defensive…" he snaps his finger for effect, "…just like that, and you wouldn't look me in the eye." Haymitch takes another swig. "So what really happened last night?"

Sighing, I decide to tell him _most _of what happened as I gulp down the saltiness of the cylinder-shaped meat I was chewing on. "Okay," I start. "So… According to the elevator, I went to this room that's labeled 'R'."

"You mean the roof?" Effie interrupts.

Roof? That room is definitely not a roof. "Uh… sure," I say raising an eyebrow. "Anyway, after sitting there for a while, a boy from 2 came up, and he sorta started talking to me about _stuff._"

"What kind of stuff?" Summer asks.

"Uh… just small talk really," I tell them.

"You're scratching your head again," Haymitch points out.

What the heck? I didn't even realize my arm reach around my head. "Oh, you're good, Haymitch."

He simply lifted his wine glass and briefly angled it towards me. "You know it, kid."

In defeat, I tell them. "So after that, he asked me to be part of the careers-."

"He what!?" my mentor blurts out almost doing a spit take with his wine.

Effie and Summer stop mid-bite, and they practically drop their jaws on their plate while staring at me.

"But I told him no!" I quickly respond.

"What!?" Haymitch aggressively asks while slamming his wine glass on the table.

And of course, Effie complains about the type of wood the table is made of.

"Well, I didn't know what else to do. They would've killed me even if I did say yes," I'm starting to be defensive, but I hope Haymitch doesn't think I'm lying.

"No! No, no, no, no," he says successively. "You should've asked me about it first."

"I… Umm… sorry?"

"Kid, he asked _you_ to be a career. Most tributes have to ask _them_ to join," Haymitch takes another swig of his wine. "Yes, you're right, they'll try to kill you in the end, but that's if you don't kill them first. Besides, you'll survive much longer if you join."

"But I already told him no, Haymitch. Just because I'll last longer doesn't mean Summer will. And the reason I volunteered in the first place is so we can protect each other."

"Hmm… You have over thirty-seven days before the Hunger Games start, and I'm pretty sure you can convince them to keep Summer alive by then," Haymitch says looking away. "You said this boy is from 2?"

"Yeah. So?"

"So… they're an aggressive bunch," he informs me. "Spoiled at times, and he couldn't have just taken '_no'_ for an answer. Did he try forcing you? Or bribing you?"

That's when my cheeks flush. A bouquet of roses are growing rampantly, and Haymitch is giving me a raised eyebrow. The last thing I want to tell him is what he bribed me with.

"Okay, so he _did_ bribe you," he guesses.

How the heck does he just know these things? It's like he can read my mind. It won't be a surprise if he already knows about my little session in the shower.

"What exactly did he bribe you with?" he asks.

Damn. I really don't want to answer that question. I just want to curl up into a ball right now and just roll away.

Lying is useless with him, so I shamefully open my mouth and brace for the truth. "He bribed me with a blow job," I say looking down at my plate.

"Excuse me!?" Effie can no longer hold her silence.

"Please don't make me repeat it," I tell her.

"Well, Effie, that boy _is_ from District 2. They are very open about sex and sexuality there as oppose to District 12 where even being gay is illegal. Am I right?" Haymitch adds.

"Oh you said it," Summer assures him.

"Listen," Effie points to me and Summer, but mostly to me, "there will be no sex taking place in the Tribute Tower," Effie demands. "First of all, that is very inappropriate for your age. And secondly, they don't offer proper protection here." Then, she turns towards our mentor, "Haymitch, don't you dare go out and buy them those high-tech condoms, you hear me?"

"Yes, mother," he rolls his eyes at her. I can tell he's had this lecture before because of the way his face can just careless about what Effie's saying. Before long, he turns to us tributes, "Okay, both of you listen up."

Summer and I point our attention towards him.

"Training is going to start soon, and I'm telling you right now, stay away from what ever station it is you're good at. You hear? You will want to be deceiving once you enter the arena, and the less they know about your strenghths, the better. Make sure to keep an eye out on what the others are good at and use it to your advantage. And, Peeta, talk to that boy from 2. Try to join the careers 'cause, I promise you, you'll be able to keep Summer safe longer."

x x

"Where's my knife!?" yells a tribute.

Summer and I turn around from the dart-blowing station, and I notice Cato making a scene which snatches our attention.

"I swear, I didn't touch it!" responds the boy from 9.

"It was sitting right there!" he points to a nearby spot, "And you obviously took it!" he blames with his eyes now filled with hatred.

'…_That's just my act for people to be scared of me,' _his words from the night before echoes in my head. This is probably another one of those acts. Just like yesterday, he tried intimidating me, and he does play the bully card pretty well.

"No I didn't! How can I steal something I didn't even know existed?" argues the boy from 9.

"Stop lying! _You took. My. Knife!_" Now, Cato is enraged and his eyes are showing that he's being serious.

Summer taps me on the shoulder and points at the ceiling above the two boys yelling at each other.

And there, a little District 11 girl with dark skin and brown hair has climbed the nets and is mockingly holding what appears to be Cato's knife in plain view of everyone except for Cato and the boy from 9.

Regardless of the anger the boy from 2 emitted, I can't help but smile and roll my eyes at the situation. That's a good practical joke that girl just played. I hope she doesn't get caught though.

It isn't long before the tall brute starts to push and grab hold of the boy from 9, and I feel a déjà vu in the pit of my stomach. This is like when Zep bullied me, and no one even stood up for me then. But that boy doesn't have to feel alone like I did. Even if he is a tribute, no one deserves to feel how I felt with _my_ bully.

My feet instinctively walk toward the scene in defense of the boy from 9.

"Peeta, what are you doing?" Summer asks, and I turn around to face her.

"I'm defending someone from a bully. Something that no one has ever done for me," I tell her.

She stares into my blue eyes as I stare into her deep brown eyes. "Okay," she says. "Just remember what Haymitch said about not showing them what we're good at." Then, she focuses her mind back to blowing darts as I approach the two arguing boys.

"Hey, Two!" I start as I pace to him. "Leave him alone! He obviously didn't steal anything."

Now, he has his attention on me, "And what are you gonna do about it, Twelve?" He's honestly starting to sound like Zep, and it pains me to think that my bully has followed me all the way here.

"Just leave him alone, Two," I plead, and the boy from 9 silently walks away to a different station without Cato knowing.

"Fine," he says with a careless tone. His attention is now fully on me. "Why don't I just fight _you_ instead?"

"What?" I squeak out.

"Let's see if you're actually worth being a career," he mentions. "Fight me, Twelve. Right here… Right now…" Then, he aggressively advances.

He pulls my arm with a god-like grip to head to the combat station, and it leaves a visible bruise.

Cato stands on one end of the small circle on the ground while I go to the opposite end. There's no turning back now. Soon, a referee comes to us to explain some rules.

I stand there looking at Cato with a good three yards between us. His eyes are filled with hatred, but I shake my head, giving him a silent message of: _we don't have to do this._

But Cato keeps his eyes locked on mine tilting his neck left and right to crack it.

"Hitting is allowed as long as no bones are broken and as long as the brain is not damaged," the referee explains the rules, though, I doubt neither of us are paying much attention. "Kicking is also allowed with the exception of it being targeted towards the groin area or the head. Lastly, the first to draw blood wins."

The referee throws both his arms down in a chopping motion between me and Cato. He shouts, "Begin!" and backs away watching us to make sure we don't damage each other too much.

"I know this is just an act, Cato," I say as I shyly raise my fists in a fighting stance. He's just trying to intimidate me. He said so himself. I hope I won't regret this later.

He cracks his knuckles informing me that he _will_ fight as he shows his devilish grin once more. "This isn't an act, Twelve. This is real," he says and sneakily gives me a low kick to my legs which causes me to fall on my knees. The brute comes closer and towers over me saying, "See, if you would have said yes last night, it would have been me on my knees working my magic."

Before he strikes again, I show him a lightning sweep kick to his shin as I gain my balance to stand again. "Why are you doing this? You said last night that-."

While he kneels on one knee, he interrupts. "Do you really think I was telling you the _full_ truth?" he asks mockingly.

Making sure he doesn't get back up again, I swing my arm for a punch to his temple, but he stops it with his palm. Now, he grips my fist so that I can't get away, and pounds me hard on the jaw.

The entire training center goes black as I clench my jaw, trying to get rid of the pain. I get dizzy from the punch, but once I regained my sight, I turn to Cato. "But you said… you act… to scare. And me… a career…" I say in between breaths, and my sentences aren't complete because of the dizziness affecting me.

Standing, he grabs my legs and throws me to the cold floor. My back hitting it hard, chills are now tightening my spine as he flips me over on my stomach, putting his entire weight on me. I thrash, but Cato doesn't budge.

My ears feel his breath on them as he whispers, "Since I already intimidated you enough that day, the other careers thought you'll join if I seem less scary and approach you like I'm your friend."

The dizziness begins to fade, and my breathing slowly comes to normal. "Friends don't offer each other blow jobs, Two!" I yell which attracts other tributes to watch our battle. It took all of my power to give a final thrash to vengefully elbow him on the ribs which causes him to loosen his weight on me. After that, I proudly punch him on the ear, which makes him loose his balance and makes him finally get off of me. I get back to my feet immediately.

With his hand on his pained left ear, he managed to respond, "I tried flattering you to join. But that didn't work, so I resorted to sex, which usually seals the deal."

"You're a jerk!" I yell out loud. All I need is to draw blood for this to be over, so I observe his body and look for his most vulnerable spot: his head. I attempt for a hooked punch, but he ducks and head butts my chest.

"I've always been a jerk, Twelve. Ever since my mom…" he was about to say something, but he trails off. This is probably a sensitive topic for him. "Never mind. It's not important," Cato says coldly.

I slouch from the wringing pain in my chest which was caused by his violent head butt. I don't get it. Why doesn't he finish me off? He's from 2, he's supposed to be trained to kill. Instead, he's holding back. Maybe he's trying to hurt me as much as possible before blood comes out of me? Yes. That's probably it. What if I anger him more? Maybe that'll get him to punch me hard enough that blood comes out. And then, all this agonizing pain I'm feeling will be over.

Knowing that it's a sensitive topic, I finish the sentence he trailed off on. "Ever since your mom became a whore like you?"

Those words are the biggest mistake of my life. He lunges towards me gripping my neck as fury bathes his entire body. I fall backwards landing again on the floor while he puts his entire weight on me. "Shut up!" he bellows. "Don't talk about my mom like that!"

He silences me by digging his hands into my esophagus. My neck becomes red, but my face turns pale. No matter how hard I try to breath in, his hand is pinching and blocking my wind pipe, making it impossible for me to breath. "Cato…" I manage to choke out, "…please."

I regret this. I regret ever standing up for that boy from 9. I regret ever jerking off to Cato. I regret thinking this is all an act. I regret calling his mom a whore. I regret everything.

But I have no one to blame but myself.

Our referee just stands there immobilized. What is he waiting for? Cato won. Why isn't he do anything?

"Feel that, Twelve?" Cato mocks with rage. "I'm not acting. This is real."

It becomes harder for me to think as I feel my moist eyes roll behind my head. Then, I feel red liquid running down my neck, and I figure out that Cato's fingers have dug deep enough for my warm blood to spew out.

Finally, he has drawn first blood. Finally, he has won.

That's when the referee peels Cato's grip off my neck as I lay on the floor bloody and bruised. I hear the other careers laughing at me, so I know that this is a battle I've lost.

"I hope that hurt," he tells me heartlessly and leaves me _with his hand print on my throat._

* * *

**Author's Notes: I still feel like I'm not getting Cato's character right! UGH! DX**

**Hopefully I can in the next chapter. I do a little bit of foreshadowing in this chapter! Woot! I hope you guys liked reading it. Btw, Longest chapter i've ever writen... hmmm maybe i'm caught up with detail? idk.  
**

**Did I do Peeta's fantasizing scene okay? or should i never write smut ever again in my entire life? Lolz! Please review! :)  
**


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